For Blue Skies
by Suituup
Summary: Rachel Berry used to be a star with lots of money, of friends, of love. Now that she has nothing and wants to end her life, who will be able to save her. Someone she hasn't seen in a long time. QR Future fic.
1. Chapter 1

In a mood for writing some Faberry. New angsty, multi chapters future fic.

I own nothing.

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><p>"You are going to write that damn song, tonight. It's been months, Rach. I'm hoping to see a proper writing on my desk by tomorrow, or else I'm fucking done." Jesse shouts angrily, his jaw set and his eyes wide. Rachel, as stubborn as she is, holds his gaze but doesn't say anything. He pushes a stack of papers toward her on the coffee table and drops a pencil in front of her.<p>

Next thing she knows, he has left the apartment, heavy curses about her leaving his mouth. Rachel takes a deep breath and picks up the pencil, tapping it in a regular rhythm against the wooden table.

It has been months. She hasn't been able to write a damn line for months. She doesn't know why or how she is going to get past it. She has had a pretty good life so far. Once she was out of High School, she entered Julliard Academy and took dancing and singing lessons. She got a part on Broadway show's _Les Mis_ and for three years, she has been at the top.

Everything shattered when her girlfriend got home one night and told her that she loved someone else.

Rachel's life has been a roller coaster ever since. She started to spend a lot more time in bars. Gay bars or regulars. She started having one night stands with whoever.

Vodka has been her best friend. Five months ago, she got fired from the production Les Mis and Jesse took her under his wing, but now, he too is giving up on her.

Rachel shakes her head as memories flood her mind. She takes the bottle of liquor from under the table and takes a swig right out of the bottle. She doesn't wince when the liquid trails down her throat. She's used to it now.

She writes a few lines, before crumbling the paper between her fingers and throwing it into a ball to the corner of the room.

She has been on the verge of depression for several weeks. On the edges of a black, deep hole, where nobody will catch her once she falls in.

Her friends gave up on her little by little. She has lost contact with everyone from Glee Club. By pure coincidence, she sometimes bumps into Mercedes or Kurt, who are living in New York.

She remembers a certain day when she saw a certain person. She was different back then. She still smiled, she was bright and happy, full of energy.

**_New York, 2015_**

"I'm on my way there, Sara. Traffic is kinda crazy. I'll be here in three minutes." Rachel hangs up her phone once she hears the click on the other side and drops it on the passenger seat of her car. When the light changes to green, she presses on the gas pedal and speeds up.

Once she's arrived to the hospital, she gets out of her Lexus and rushes in. She didn't expect a blond storm to bump into her. The person gasps when Rachel hits the floor and offers her hand to help the petite brunette back onto her feet.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. Are you OK?" she asks frantically as Rachel brushes off her expensive jeans.

That voice.

She looks up and meets those familiar hazel eyes. The blonde gulps and brushes her hair back from her face.

"R-rachel?" she asks, swallowing thickly as she tightens her hold on the chart she is holding. "Rachel Berry?"

Rachel holds her head high but can not ignore the fluttering in her stomach. "Quinn, hi. I never thought I'd ever see you again."

"Yeah, crazy right?"

There is something different about her. Rachel doesn't know if it's the long hair or the fancy clothes or the glasses. Her eyes are softer, her features more calm. She is beautiful, Rachel can't help but think.

Shaking her head lightly, she does not want to catch up with her. She is here to see her girlfriend, end of the story.

Curiosity still gets the best of her as she eyes Quinn's white lab coat, the stethoscope set over her shoulders, the charts in her arms.

"You work here?"

Quinn gives her a shy nod, "Yes, actually. I am an intern in psychology."

_Psh. Not even a real doctor._ Rachel feels the urge to roll her eyes.

"Well, since you work here, can you tell me where I can find the ER?"

"You are in the ER. Who are you visiting? Unless you are hurt?" There's slight panic in her voice and Rachel wonders what her parents have done with the old Quinn. She doesn't remember her being so...caring and nice.

"No. I'm looking for my girlfriend, she was in a car accident."

"Y-your _girlfriend_?" she echoes, dumbfounded, her jaw slightly agape. She recoils rather quickly and clears her throat. "Um, what's her name?"

"Sara Cooper."

Quinn nods. "Let me check at the desk."

She walks away then, and Rachel tries to ignore the rush of heat through her entire body.

**_New York, present time._**

Rachel sighs heavily as she drops the pencil on the coffee table. The bottle of vodka is almost empty, her head if throbbing and she has not written a single line.

She is going to get her ass kicked, she knows that. She does not give a fuck.

She finishes the bottle and takes some more pills that are scattered on the table when she dropped the box and it fell open, earlier.

She stands from the couch on shaky legs and goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. A knock comes to the front door, it opens without having her answering and before she knows it, Jesse is standing in the doorway.

She panics at first, because she knows he is going to be angry. But then she notices that his eyes are sparkling and he is already taking off his jacket. She knows what's coming next but again, she's used to it.

The next morning is a blur. The sun hits right into her face and as soon as she opens her eyes, the headache is there. She rubs her temples with her slim fingers and looks sideways. The other side of the bed is empty, and she wonders whether Jesse left right after fucking her or if her spent the night and is currently preparing breakfast.

She goes for the first theory. She rises from the bed and wraps a robe around her body before padding down the hall to the kitchen. She does not expect him to be here, sat at the table, reading the pieces of paper she crumbled yesterday.

"Morning," she says, not bothering to wait until he sees her. She has time to make coffee and put toast to grill before he speaks.

"Are you kidding me?" he says lowly, standing up from his chair. Rachel turns and swallows thickly.

"I beg you pardon?"

"This," he says as he holds up the pages. "This is not what I expected. It's been months Rachel, months! You haven't written a fucking line in months!" he is shouting now, and he has never scared her that much.

She still holds her head high and crosses her arms over her chest, she is not going to show him that she is scared.

"I'm the only person left, Rachel! Without me, you are lost, you'll fall into depression. Now, you're going to sit down and write a damn song."

"No." Rachel spits out. "I won't. You don't get to tell me what I need and need not to do."

His hand colliding against her cheek causes an echo to erupt throughout the apartment. Rachel gasps and holds her burning face in her hand. Jesse is fuming and his eyes are full of rage until he realizes what he has done.

"Rachel I..."

"Get out." she mutters, shooting daggers at him. She does not want to hear any of his excuses, she wants to be alone.

"Rach..."

"Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops."

Jesse nods and grabs his jacket. Once he is out of the door, Rachel slumps down in the nearest chair with her head in her hands.

-0-

"Miss. Berry, how's the writing going?"

They have got to be kidding her. They have been following her for a while now, but she chose to ignore them. She hears the clicks of the cameras, the scribble of pens on the notebooks. She does not know how they recognized her, because she has been thorough. She put on the largest sunglasses she owns and a scarf around her head.

Still, the minute she got out of her building, they have been on her tail.

"Go away," she spits out evilly.

"Are you in a relation ship with your manager, the beau Jesse St. James?" another asks.

She does not know how many they are. She prefers not to turn her head around but keeps it down so they can't take any picture.

"Is it true that you are on the edge of depression?"

"You were seen taking pills. What are those?"

"Would you consider going back on Broadway?"

"How's your new album going? Still underwater?"

"Are you still in contacts with your two gay dads?"

Rachel's head snaps up and she clenches her teeth. Never, ever talk about her dads. Never.

"What did you just say?" she asks. She now does not care that hundreds of pictures have already been taken of her and will be the headlines in every people magazine by tomorrow. "Don't you dare talk about my dads."

"Oh, looks like I hit a string guys," the same paparazzi comments, causing the others to laugh. Rachel sees red and before she can stop herself, her shouts can be heard anywhere in a radius of a hundred feet.

"Get away from me you bastards! You are fucking choking me with your fucking cameras! I need a life like everyone else on this fucking earth! Can't anybody listen to me anymore? Leave me the Hell alone before I report your damn asses to my manager."

She walks as fast as her legs can carry her to her apartment and hastily walks up the stairs to her floor. Once she gets it, she slams the door behind her and the sobs are escaping her mouth as soon as she drops the keys on the table next to the door.

Tears spill from her eyes at an extremely rapid pace and her legs wobble beneath her weight. She takes off her sunglasses and they drop to the floor, along with her body a few seconds later. She leans against the door and draws her knees to her chest, trying to muffle her cries.

She is supposed to be strong. She used to be.

-0-

Rachel pulls off her sunglasses as soon as she steps into the bar. After giving her ID to the vigil, she looks around. Girls grinding against each other to the music beat, others making out in the sofas and some flirting at the bar. She walks to the counter and orders a cocktail.

Barely a few minutes have passed when she feels someone touch her hip. She cranes her head to look at the person and is met by a stunningly blond woman with hazel eyes who strongly make her think about Quinn. She shakes her head and forces a smile.

"Hi," the girl says to Rachel. "I'm Maddie."

"Hello." Rachel responds dryly, turning back to her cocktail without another glance.

"Oh, the girl's shy, huh?" The blonde hops onto a stool next to Rachel and claps her fingers to the bartender. "Give this woman a vodka."

"No, really..." Rachel protests. She has barely come down from her last hangover.

"I insist." Maddie says and Rachel can only sigh as the shooter is placed in front of her. She puts her other glass down and gulps the other drink. She feels Maddie's hand once again on her waist and this time turns fully to her.

"What do you want?"

"I want to spend a nice evening with a nice person. You seem to be a nice person."

Rachel scoffs, "You are mistaking. I'm not a nice person. I used to be at least."

"I gave you my name...is yours going to be a secret?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"It's Phoebe," Rachel says, extending her hand. The blonde shakes it and leans toward Rachel.

"Nice to meet you," she closes the gap between them and Rachel tries to shake the disgusting feeling of the girl's sloppy lips against hers. Her tongue pushes into Rachel's mouth and she grinds her body against hers. Rachel moans in surprise but grants the access. When they break apart, Rachel wants to wipe off her lips. Maddie smirks at her. "My place or yours?"

"Yours."

Screw it. Another one night stand, she is used to it.

-0-

"I'm so glad I met you," Maddie says as she lies back down next to Rachel. Rachel tries to regain her breath as she looks away. She gathers her bra and shirt to put them on. Maddie shakes her head. "What are you doing?"

"Let me be clear, Maddie, or whatever your name is," she begins. "This means nothing to me. So I had a great time, but it stops there. I don't call you, you don't call me. I'm not the one to be in a relation ship with." She stands and hastily pulls her panties back on and then her jeans before grabbing her bag and leaving the apartment.

She checks her watch, which indicates 2 am. She sighs and goes to the nearest drug store around. She takes the first liquor bottle she finds, whichever alcohol it is, she just wants to get wasted. She gets it in front of the cashier, shows him some ID and pays for the bottle before hailing a cab and going back to her apartment.

She closes the door behind her and drops the keys to the glass table next to it, drops her bag there, as well as her coat and shoes. She plugs her iPod on and puts blaring music, the kind of sound that Rachel Berry never would have imagined she would listen to one day.

She hops on the couch and pours herself a drink of the transparent liquid and drinks it down. Her phone buzzes in her pocket, she pulls it out, ignores the call when she sees it's Jesse. She drops it next to her and Takes yet another drink.

Her phone buzzes again a few minutes later, Jesse is again calling. She rolls her eyes and turns it off, resisting the urge to slam it against the nearest wall.

She drinks another drink, and another. She does not care, she is done caring.

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><p>Let me know if you want me to continue this!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the reviews! Here's the second chapter, which focuses on Quinn.

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><p>Quinn has always wanted to settle down, to have children. Getting pregnant at sixteen wasn't in any of her plans though. She knew she made the good choice by giving Beth up. Beth's adoptive parents wanted Puck and Quinn to have an open adoption. After the first year, they were allowed to visit her twice a week. When Mr. and Mrs. Peterson decided to move to New York, Quinn made the choice to go study to Columbia so she could be close to her daughter.<p>

She sees her once a week, sometimes she and Puck take her together to the park or to the movies. She and Puck have gotten closer over the years but they have never been together in a relation ship. In fact, Quinn met a man two years ago, and she has been with him ever since.

She lived with Brittany and Santana for two years during her studies and the two girls still live in New York. Quinn sees them often. Of course she is still in contact with Puck and Kurt calls her from time to time.

She has had no contact with a certain Rachel Berry since they graduated, except for the one time she came running into the hospital

_**New York, 2015**_

Quinn walks down the hallway after seeing her last patient for the day. She can't wait to go home and take a nice long bath and then have dinner with Kyle.

She isn't looking where she is going when she bumps into someone. The person falls down on the floor and Quinn gasps. She helps the person back onto her feet.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. Are you OK?" She asks as the girl brushes off her what looks like expensive jeans. Then the girl looks up and Quinn feels her breath catch in her throat. "Rachel?" her chest tightens and she can't help but blink several times, making sure her eyes aren't fooling with her. "Rachel Berry?"

"Quinn, hi. I never thought I'd ever see you again."

"Yeah, crazy right?" Quinn shakes her head then. _Crazy? Seriously? You could have just said, it's good to see you, or something._

Quinn looks down at Rachel, eyes her fancy clothes. The expensive jeans, the Lexus keys in her hand. Of course she has heard of her. Everyone in New York has heard of her. She is on every magazine cover, she is a celebrity.

She feels Rachel's eyes on her and thinks that she must not look like anything. She does not own fancy clothes. She could afford them. She just has other priorities.

"You work here?"

_Duh, why else would I be wearing a lab coat?_

"Yes, actually. I am an intern in psychology."

She notices the disapproving look Rachel gives her. She shrugs it away.

"Well, since you work here, can you tell me where I can find the ER?"

"You are in the ER. Who are you visiting? Unless you are hurt?" Her eyes wander over Rachel's body but she doesn't see any apparent injuries.

"No. I'm looking for my girlfriend, she was in a car accident."

"Y-your _girlfriend_?" she almost chokes on her words. She feels her heartbeat accelerate and butterflies in her stomach. She doesn't know if it's from the fact that she is jealous that Rachel has got a girlfriend, or because she's happy that Rachel likes girls? Why would she, she's straight. She is almost sure of that. "Um, what's her name?"

"Sara Cooper."

Quinn nods. "Let me check at the desk."

She walks away, feeling the petite brunette's eyes on her.

**_New York, present time_**

Quinn lets out a deep sigh as she enters the apartment she shares with Kyle. It's hers, technically. He has moved in just a few months ago. She is not surprised when she walks into the living room to find her boyfriend on the couch nursing a beer with Puck on the opposite end of the couch, a bowl of chips set between them as they watch the Superbowl. She rolls her eyes and clears her throat, getting both men's attention.

"Hey Babe," Kyle says and she walks to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "How was your day?"

"It was okay," she says, her eyes traveling to Puck. "Hey."

"Hey, baby mama." he greets with a smile.

"Hope you don't mind, some friends are coming here to watch the game."

"I think I'm just gonna crash at Britt and S. Less noise, more sleep."

"You sure?" Kyle asks, concerned.

"Yep." She kisses him one more time before rising to her feet and grabbing her phone. She dials Santana and Brittany's number. It rings four times before the answering machine picks up. "S, Britt, I know you're there, pick up please."

"What, Q?" Santana spits out into the phone, her breathing is ragged and Brittany if giggling in the background.

"Why are you panting?" she asks, then closes her eyes. She can be so gullible sometimes. "Never mind. Can I crash at your place tonight?"

"Why?"

"Because Kyle is bringing friends over to watch the Superbowl. How 'bout a girl's night? I'm cooking."

"Alright, bring your ass over here Blondie."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

-0-

Quinn doesn't even knock on their door anymore, there's no way they are going to stand from the couch anyway. She still knocks on the door as she opens it, her other hand covering her eyes.

"Can I come in? Is it safe? You're not fooling around?" she asks, peeking through her fingers. She hears Santana laugh and decides that it's safe enough to look. Santana and Brittany are sitting on the couch as expected, watching some crap on TV.

"It's safe Q. And please, don't say 'fooling around', it sounds so not mature," Santana comments. "Tell me you brought food?"

"I did," she holds up a paper bag and sets it on the coffee table. "Chinese?"

"So cool, thanks Quinn," Brittany says as she starts shuffling through the bag. Quinn smiles and shrugs.

"Welcome Britt. So what you guys are up to?"

"Well, if it wasn't for your sorry ass, we would be in our bedroom right now." Santana says, rolling her dark orbs. Quinn blushes and clears her throat.

"S, don't talk to Quinn like that, she's our guest."

Santana immediately softens. "You're right babe, sorry Q."

Quinn is speechless. For the several years she has known Santana, she discovered pretty quick about the girl's temper and easiness to curse. The only person who can calm her down is Brittany, and it has been that way ever since the two girls met. Just a simple touch, a simple whisper from the blonde are enough to calm the feisty brunette down. They are soul mates, Quinn is sure of it. They are meant to be together forever.

She wishes she had that kind of relation ship. Of course she has Kyle and she loves him very much. But he is not her soul mate, neither is Puck or any other guy she has dated for that matter.

She sighs as a smile plays on her lips when Brittany kisses Santana's cheek and feeds her some white rice. Santana laughs out loud when Brittany tries to eat with the chopsticks but fails and huffs. Her gaze then travels to Quinn, who is looking blankly in the air.

"You okay, Quinn?" the blonde asks, concern washing over her face. Quinn nods but stays silent until Santana scoops over and pats the spot next to her.

"Get your ass over here, Q." she orders and Quinn obliges. "What has got you all broody?"

"Nothing," Quinn answers. Santana raises an eyebrow. "Fine...Do you remember Rachel Berry?"

The Latina rolls her eyes and scoffs. "ManHands? Duh, how can we not? Her voice is unfortunately registered into my brain like...forever."

"Have you read any magazine lately?" Quinn asks, fidgeting with the cushion she has set on her lap.

"No. Why?"

Quinn reaches into her purse and pulls out a People Magazine and sets it on the brunette's lap. Rachel is on the cover, and she looks as if she 's screaming at the person taking pictures of her. She has sunglasses over her eyes and a scarf wrapped around her head but she is recognizable.

The words below the photo are in white and big font.

_Is the former Broadway Star on the verge of depression? _

"There's more inside." Quinn says and the girls next to her start flipping through the pages.

There are photos of Rachel wearing a tiny dress that barely covers her butt, high heels and a cigarette in her hand. She is kissing a blonde girl Quinn has never seen before and is apparently unknown to the paparazzi. There is another photo, apparently from the same night because Rachel is wearing the same dress, where she is pinned against the wall by another woman, still a blonde but her face is hidden by her long hair.

Santana looks up as she tosses the magazine on the coffee table. "Berry is a lesbian and likes to hit several girl in one night, so what?"

"She's_ Rachel Berry_," Quinn emphasizes. "The prude, neat, organized girl who used to wear plaid skirts and argyle sweaters back in High School. Look at her!"

"The girl likes to party! And obviously she doesn't like paparazzi," Santana says, eying the cover. "What's with the sudden concern?"

Quinn is caught of guard. She doesn't even know. She saw the magazine, and it made her heart ache. That's that. She doesn't have any further explanation to give.

"I...I don't know."

"Because you like her," Brittany chimes in. Quinn's eyes widen and she shakes her head. "You used to, in High school."

"I didn't."

"Yes you did. You weren't very subtle, Quinn. I didn't need you to tell me, it was obvious. But she wasn't gay back then. Or at least she didn't know she was. That's why you've never told her," Quinn looks down and continues to fidget with the hem of the cushion. Brittany narrows her eyes. "You still like her, don't you? I remember the day you bumped into her at the hospital. When you told me about it, you had that sparkle in your eyes. The kind of sparkle Santana has in her eyes when she talks about me."

Quinn is dumbfounded. What Brittany has just said about the High School part is true. She used to find herself attracted to Rachel. But that's it.

"I-I'm not gay."

"Maybe you're not for any other girl. But for Rachel you are."

"I'm with Kyle. We love each other." Quinn says. Santana scoffs and rolls her eyes.

"Gay beard."

Quinn opens and closes her mouth, without being able to say anything. "That's not true."

"Whatever you say, Q. C'mon, let's eat this shit before it gets cold."

Quinn remains silent the rest of the evening. When she gets home, the guys already left and Kyle is already in bed. When she's settled on the mattress, he turns around ans kisses her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her middle. He whispers 'I love you', and she believes he means it.

She believes she means it too.

-0-

"Dr. Fabray," Quinn hears from a distance. She yawns and keeps her eyes closed. "Dr. Fabray." Her shoulder is being shaken and Quinn shoos up.

"What?"

"Your shift is over. You should go home." The nurse kindly says and Quinn smiles warmly, rubbing her eyes with her balled fists.

"Thanks." She walks out of the exam room where she has been taking a nap and walks to the desk, placing her charts back in the ranks.

"24-year-old woman, drug overdose. There were two empty tablets of sleeping pills on the table. She is stable for now."

Quinn's eyes travel to the gurney and she can stop the gasp that's threatening to escape her mouth at the sight or Rachel laying on the gurney. She looks like an angel, her eyes are closed, her dark hair sprawled out around her face, her lips forming a thin line.

She almost looks as if she is in a peaceful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel feels as if her entire body has been thrown under a truck. She tries to open her eyes but her lids feel too heavy to do it. A moan rises from the back of her throat and she suddenly feels the urge to vomit. That's when her eyes flow open, and everything she is able to see from her laying position, is white. The walls, the furniture, the sheets. She groans, she hates anything that's white, it's so depressing. Then again, she is a little depressed.

She doesn't remember too many things. She remembers seeing the paparazzi again, being followed and taken in picture. She remembers Jesse coming to apologize once again, she remembers yelling at him and telling him to go away. She remembers the pills, the two tablets laying on the table in front of her. Then all she can remember is waking up here, in the hospital. At least she thinks it's a hospital. It could be a rehab center or a house for crazy for what she knows. Everything is white there, too.

"Glad to see you are awake," a soft voice rings through her ears. She startled for a few seconds, and her neck hurts when she tries to move it to see who is next to her. All she catches is blond hair. She groans and tries to sit up, only to have a hand on her shoulder to pull her back down. "You need to rest." she hears again. Then she feels the bed being pulled up and she is able to see the rest of the room. Then she hears beeping and a thing is attached to her index.

Yep, she is in the hospital. _Great_, just fucking great.

She turns her head slightly to the side and her eyes fall onto Quinn. She sitting there, on a stool. Rachel doesn't know how long she has been sitting there because her eyes are squinted and her hair is anything but perfect. She has no make up on, or at least the one she had the day before is gone. Rachel tries to speak but her throat is very sore. Next thing she knows, Quinn is rising a plastic cup to her lips. Rachel accepts the little bit of water she manages to swallow down and then adverts her eyes from Quinn.

"Don't try to speak. They had to put a tube down you throat to empty your stomach, it bust be irritated."

Rachel rolls her eyes. _No kidding, you think?_

Quinn smiles a bit and places her hand on Rachel's shoulder. "I'm going to get your doctor and I'll be back later, alright?"

Rachel doesn't say anything, she just turns her head to look out the window. She wants to tell Quinn not to leave because she is the only person she knows around, but her pride prevents her from it. She's supposed to be strong. She doesn't need anybody to save her, she can do it on her own.

Quinn gets out of the room and takes a deep breath of air. She has stayed with Rachel the entire night, but now she needs to have a cup of coffee and to call Santana and Brittany. She pulls out her phone from the pocket of her lab coat, turns it on as she walks outside the hospital. She shudders as the cold wind makes contact with her skin while she checks her phone.

6 missed calls, all from Santana. She's going to her ass dials the Latina's number and waits for her to pick up.

_"What the fuck, Q? Why are you calling just now?"_

"I'm sorry Santana, something came up."

_"The deal was for us to pick Beth us and let her stay at the apartment until you came back. You never showed and we got stuck with the midget. What the hell?"_

"I'm still at the hospital. Can you keep her for two hours?"

_"Seriously Q? What could possibly be more important than your daughter?"_

"Rachel is in the hospital, she tried to kill herself."

_"How surprising, we all knew it was coming. So what, you have to ask her questions and then it's done, right?"_

Quinn sighs, clearly annoyed by Santana's lack of sympathy and feelings toward Rachel. "I'll pick up Beth in an hour, okay? Bye."

She doesn't give Santana a chance to reply and hangs up her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. Walking back into the ER, she grabs a cup of coffee and strides back to Rachel's room. The doctor has just finished examining her and Rachel is still gazing out the window. He shoots Quinn a glance and she follows him out of the room.

"Is she going to be okay, Mark?" she asks anxiously. That's when she regrets not being able to help people when it has nothing to do with psychology. Especially when it's people she cares about. Mark pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and nods his head while looking down to the chart he is holding in his hands.

"Physically yes. We were able to prevent any permanent damage. However she will need your help. She seems very guarded."

Quinn swallows the lump in her throat. "I'll see what I can do."

She steps back into Rachel's room and notes that the tiny brunette has fallen back to sleep. She leans over her and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. She knows she shouldn't do it but she can't help it. She looks like an angel. Her eyes flutter open and Quinn sits on the chair next to the bed and takes Rachel's hand, which she fortunately doesn't pull away.

"How do you feel?" the blond asks, tilting her head to the side. Rachel shoots daggers at her and snatches her hand away.

"What do you care?" she spits out, shaking her head as she ducks it. "You're just doing your stupid job, right? Then you'll leave, like everyone did in my life."

Quinn takes a moment, trying to find the best words that are not going to offend the brunette. "I want to help you, Rachel."

Her head snaps back at you. "Oh it's Rachel now? What happened to Man Hands, or RuPaul and Treasure trail?"

Quinn can't help but feels guilt rush through her body. She opens her mouth but no words seems to be able to get out of it. "I'm not the same person. The Quinn Fabray you knew is gone."

"So is the Rachel Berry you knew. I'm not so naïve anymore," her tone is harsh and Quinn still doesn't know what to say. "Get the fuck out of my room."

Despite the fact that she wants to stay, Quinn knows it's for the best if she goes take some air and a break. She nods her head and gently rises from her seat, smoothing her lab coat. "I'll be back tonight."

With that, she leaves the room and Rachel chokes a sob she has been keeping in for long minutes, wanting to stay strong in front of the blond.

-0-

When Quinn walks into Santana and Brittany's apartment, she's surprised that she's met with silence. It's usually very noisy in there, music blaring through the speakers and Brittany rehearsing her choreography or Santana talking loudly on the phone. Or loud sex. Quinn cringes at the memory and is perfectly comfortable with silence. She peeks above the back of the couch and sees her daughter lying on the soft leather surface, a blanket tucked over her tiny body while her head rests on Brittany's lap who is also sleeping.

Quinn smiles and decides not to wake the two blondes and goes into the kitchen to find something to eat.

"Sure, help yourself," she hears a voice behind her and jumps, her hand racing to her chest. She turns around and sees her Latina friend sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee.

"Gee, San. Don't ever do that again."

"Whatever. So how's RuPaul?" Santana asks, eying the newspaper draped on the table. Quinn rolls her eyes and sits at the table in front of her best friend.

"Don't call her that. She has a name. It's Rachel." it comes out of Quinn's mouth harsher than she wanted too and Santana rises her head and quirks an eyebrow at her.

"Alright, don't bite my head off Q," she says. "So how is _Rachel_?" she reformulates, carefully emphasizing the brunette's name with a sarcastic smile. Quinn narrows her eyes and sighs.

"She is okay, physically. I tried to talk to her this morning but she told me to, and I quote, 'Get the fuck out.'"

Santana's eyes widen. "Woah, she seems like a High School version of myself," she comments. "I taught her well."

Quinn ignores Santana's comment and steals a sip from her cup before she can protest. "Anyway, I need to go back to the hospital in the afternoon."

"You're taking the midget with you, right?" Santana asks, glaring at Quinn.

"I'm no midget, Auntie S." a girl about eight years old appears from the doorway with her hand on her hips and her brows furrowed. Santana beams and looks at Quinn.

"Look at her, she already has your HBIC attitude." she then looks back to Beth. "And I already told you, I hate it when you call me that."

Beth ignores Santana's comment just like her mom did a few seconds ago and walks over to Quinn, setting herself in her lap. She kisses her cheek and Quinn nuzzles the little girl's nose. "Slept well?"

"Yep. Brittany's lap is comfy."

Quinn smiles and ruffles Beth's soft hair. "I'm going to take you out for breakfast and then I'll drive you back to your parent's house. How does that sound?"

"Awesome."

Quinn kisses Beth's forehead and pats her back. "C'mon, go grab your coat and we'll be ready to rock and roll," she turns back to Santana once the girl ran out of the room. "Thank you so much for watching her."

Santana waves her off, "Don't mention it. She's not that bad."

Beth runs back into the room and tucks on Quinn's sleeve. "I'm ready."

"Alright, say bye to Auntie S."

Santana shoots you daggers because of the surname but grins don at Beth before the eight-year-old stands on her tip toes and presses a kiss to the Latina's cheek. "Bye Auntie S, love you."

"Love you too."

Quinn winks at Santana and hugs her before leaving the kitchen. She and Beth pass by Brittany who has just woken up and the older blonde does a high five with Beth, causing the little girl to erupt into a fit of giggles. After many laughs, Quinn finally manages to drag Beth out of the apartment. They grab breakfast (Bagel for Beth and a cup of orange juice while Quinn settles for coffee and buys a vegan breakfast, figuring that Rachel might be hungry.), hail a cab and Quinn drops Beth off at her parent's house, telling her that she will see her next week.

When she gets back to the hospital, she puts on her lab coat, notebook and pen as well as the brown paper bag with one bagel in it. She walks into Rachel's room and finds the young woman awake and staring at the window.

"Hi," Quinn's voice is soft but it manages to gently drag Rachel away from her thoughts.

"I told you to leave." she whispers harshly.

The smile on Quinn's face doesn't flatter. "That was two hours ago. I brought you some breakfast. I asked your doctor, you are allowed to eat."

Her eyes move down to the paper bag Quinn is holding. "What's in there?"

"A vegan bagel."

She turns away from Quinn yet again, "I'm not hungry."

As if on cue, her stomach make rumbling sounds and Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Really? Try again."

Rachel sighs, "Fine."

She takes the bagel out and hands it to her along with a paper napkin. She is not sure whether Rachel mumbles a thank you or if her ears are playing tricks to her. She decides to interpret it as a thank you, because it brings a nice feeling to her heart.

"The doctor told me that they're keeping you one more night for observation and then you'll be free to go."

"Great, can't wait to leave this shit hole."

"But he strongly advises you to see a therapist in the following days."

Rachel rolls her eyes, "That's when Angel Quinn steps up, right?"

"No." Quinn says, tucking a stray of her blond hair behind her ear. "I think it's better if you go see a stranger, given our past differences."

A sarcastic laugh escapes Rachel's lips as she shakes her head, "Differences? You mean the fact that you tortured me the from Freshman to Junior year and threw slushies at my face? That's what you call _differences_?"

"I know that what I've done in High school was horrible and completely out of place. But it was different back then. I was a bitch, I as obsessed with labels and being captain of the cheerleading squad, being prom queen. I've changed. And I'm truly sorry for what I did to you during High School, I truly am. Can't we put the past behind us?"

"And what?" Rachel asks pointedly. "Become friends? In a world with only rainbows and butterflies. Come on Quinn, snap out of you daydream. My life is fucked up. And even though the old Rachel Berry might forgive you, the new one won't."

"And where is the old Rachel Berry?" Quinn gently asks. "I know she is in you, somewhere? The one who loves her dads more than anything in the entire wall, the one who is passionated about Broadway and Barbra Streisand. The one who used to smile in front of the paparazzi to get her picture taken. What happened? You can talk to me, Rachel. I want to help you."

"Well I don't need your help." The brunette mumbles through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed by Quinn's speech. "You can go now."

"Do you have anywhere to live?"

"Of course I do. I used to be on Broadway and I did a few movies. I might now be in my best financially talking right now, but I'm not homeless," she says harshly. "But thank you for your concern, Dr. Fabray."

Quinn gets the sarcastic tone in Rachel's voice and doesn't insist further. She takes her tiny notebook from her pocket and rips a piece of paper before scribbling something on it. She then hands it to Rachel.

"This is my phone number and below it my pager number. Call me if you need someone to talk to, or need help. Any time, even if it's the middle of the night." Quinn says but Rachel doesn't acknowledge her. She feels tears pool into her eyes and she blinks several times before leaving the room.

-0-

Quinn lets out a heavy sigh as she opens her apartment door. She sets her keys on the table and walks to the kitchen to fetch herself something to eat. Luckily, Kyle is already preparing dinner when she enters the room. He turns his head when he hears her footsteps and smiles lovingly.

"Hey sweetie," he wipes his hands on the dish towel that lies on the counter and marches over to his girlfriend. "What's wrong?"

Quinn looks as if she's going to break down in the next second. "I had a bad day is all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Just the past that is catching up on me." she whispers. Kyle takes a step closer and extends his arms. She wraps her arms around him and buries her head into his neck, finally allowing the tears to flow down her cheeks.

-0-

The next morning, Rachel is allowed to go home.

As soon as Rachel finishes signing the discharge papers, she places her sunglasses onto her eyes and steps out of the hospital. A group of paparazzi is already standing there, reading to catch their prey. Flashes appear around her, questions are made, videos are taken, paparazzi are stumbling in front of her, hoping she will answer their questions. She's ready to scream when she feels an arm wrap around her shoulders and two security guards step in front of her, pushing the reporters aside so she can go ahead.

She glances at Quinn who is standing beside her, a comforting hand on her shoulder. She walks with Rachel to the cab she has called earlier and closes the door behind the brunette.

"Think about what I told you, alright?" Quinn says, giving a nod to the other young woman.

Rachel grits her teeth but manages a nod as well. She takes a deep breath and then Quinn disappears behind the hospital doors.


End file.
